My Little Girl
by Cortney-Elznic
Summary: Jack and his daughter spend time at his parents' graves. One-shot.


Jack swung the front door open, stormed across the threshold onto the porch, and looked around for her, his heart fluttering. _She was just here a second ago_, he thought as he walked around the porch, his head swiveling around. He called out her name several times as he stepped off the porch and walked around the house, then he headed to the barn and looked there, then the chicken coop, over by the silo, but to no avail.

_Shit…_

He began to panic. He started running down the road, thinking she had run off. He shouted her name again, and as he looked around for the hundredth time, his panic washed away as a wave of relief flowed through him. _There she is_, he thought, panting as he turned and headed up to his parents' graves. The path had long ago turned into what looked like a cow trail; his feet carried him up to the lookout over his ranch.

She was talking to John and Abigail's graves as if they weren't dead and gone, pouring her heart out in the one-handed conversation. As she spoke, she fiddled with a bouquet of wildflowers she had no doubt picked on her way up to the graves.

"What are you doin' up here?" Jack asked as he walked up to her. "I thought I told you not to run off on me like that. You 'bout gave me a heart attack!"

The toddler looked up at him with large brown eyes and smirked sheepishly at him. "Sorry, Papa. I just wanted to talk to Grandma and Grandpa. That's all."

"Oh," Jack said as he sat down beside her. He picked her up and set her on his lap. "What have you been tellin' them?"

"Just tellin' 'em 'bout my puppy and my chickens and my horsey. And 'bout Mama and you." The little girl looked up at him. "You miss Grandma and Grandpa, don't you, Papa?"

Jack nodded and drew her into a tight hug. "Every day, darlin'."

She hugged him fiercely in return. "They're right here, Papa. You can talk to 'em, too, like me."

"You're right, sweetheart. Sometimes I come up here and do just that." He smirked down at her, this little wonder he never would've thought he could love so much. She changed his life five years ago, and he couldn't believe how fast the years had already flown by. He was changing diapers and helping her learn how to walk and talk and giving her her first horseback riding lesson only yesterday…

"What's Mama doin'?" the girl asked as she leaned out of his arms to lay the bouquet of flowers between the graves. She began to pull at the chunks of grass.

"Mama's gettin' supper ready. I was helpin' her out, then I didn't know where you went, so I came lookin' for you. You ought not scare me like that, Abigail Anne." The thought of losing his daughter sent a cold wave of dread through his heart, and he wrapped her in his arms once more.

"Papa, let go," she giggled. "I'm okay."

"I know. You just scare the hell outta me when you leave my sight."

She craned her neck back and looked up at him. "You're silly, Papa."

"You're a little escape artist, and a wiggle worm!" He tickled her sides, making her instantly squirm and squeal. She jumped up out of his arms, spun around, and swatted playfully at his outstretched hands.

"C'mon, Papa, quit it!" she laughed.

Jack withdrew his hands and chuckled. "Alright, I'll stop." He pointed to her as he added, "But you'd best get back into the house. Supper's almost ready, then it's bedtime."

"Can you tell me one of your stories, Papa?"

Jack smirked. "Which one?"

"'The Adventures of Lancelot'!"

He laughed. "I always tell you that story. What about some of my other ones? You know I have plenty of 'em. Just gotta write 'em down and recite 'em to you is all."

She shook her head adamantly, her long dark hair whipping about wildly. "No! That's my favorite, Papa! Can you tell it to me again tonight? Pleeeeeeaaassssse?"

Jack stood up and dusted himself off. "Sure, darlin'. I'll tell it again." He held out a hand for his little girl. "C'mon, Abigail. Let's head inside."

"Okay, Papa," she said as she stood up and, like her father, dusted herself off, ridding her green dress of the grass. Her little hand reached up and took her father's, his gargantuan hands enveloping hers. She glanced back at the graves and said, "Bye, Grandma. Bye, Grandpa. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Hand in hand, they headed down the hill back to the house.


End file.
